Pressure
by xPeterPanNeverFailsx
Summary: Sometimes, all you need, is a way to relieve the pressure.


**So, this was what I had meant to write when I wrote Bite into Me…and that turned out far mushier than intended. Here's the original story I had in my head.**

**Warnings: Slash fic! Rated M for a reason!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf**

xxxxx

They weren't in a relationship. There was no happy ending to this story. In fact, he wasn't even sure what you could call what he and Derek had. Stiles sometimes supposed that you might call them lovers, but even that didn't sound right most days. There were no feelings involved. They weren't boyfriends, or mates, or a couple. No, what they had was something animalistic. What they had was something everyone needed, but didn't necessarily have the nerve to take. It was a way to relieve the pressure.

The first night it had happened had been the night Stiles had held Derek afloat for hours, keeping the paralyzed werewolf safe until help could arrive. Stiles had returned home that night exhausted and soaking wet. He quickly changed into a warm pair of sweats and a loose shirt and crawled into bed. As he teetered on the edge of sleep, he was roused by the sound of knocking on his window. Stiles started. Normally, if it was Scott, he would just let himself in. So who would be knocking at this hour?

Curiosity got the better of him, making Stiles drag his weary body out of bed to his window. Needless to say, he was more than surprised when he saw Derek perched on the roof, but opened the window anyway, letting the man crawl inside. When Stiles opened his mouth to question the man, he was roughly silenced by a pair of lips upon his own.

"No talking." Had been Derek's only words that night after pulling away from the bruising kiss. And remarkably, Stiles had complied. When Stiles woke the next morning, sticky and sore, he was unsurprised to find himself alone.

Stiles wasn't sure why Derek had come to him that first night, perhaps a sense of gratitude toward the teen had drawn the werewolf to his window, but since then, it had become habit. They would fight, the pack risking their lives repeatedly in an attempt to keep their home safe from the creatures that invaded Beacon Hills in the hope of an easy conquest. Then, after, when everyone was tired and beaten, the pack would return home, all except two.

More often than not, Stiles would find himself seeking out Derek in whatever hole he was living in at the time. It was safer that way. They didn't want to risk anyone finding out, let alone the Sherriff. Stiles and Derek had managed to keep the secret from the pack, usually by staying away from the rest of them after one of their "meetings" for a day or two, and a lot of excessive showering on Stiles' part. Damn werewolves and their heightened sense of smell. Stiles kept up his I-need-to-get-laid sob story in front of Scott, and for now it was working. And miraculously, after a year and a half of their trysts, none of the pack had any idea.

So when Stiles dragged himself home after a particularly nasty battle against a pair of rogue omegas, he had already made plans to sneak out his bedroom window and head to Derek's loft. The pressure was always the worst when someone nearly died. Tonight, it had been Lydia. The banshee always insisted on being present during battles, but was little help other that functioning as a lookout. Somehow, one of the omegas had managed to get past Scott, heading straight for the vulnerable girl, landing a shot to her stomach before Derek leapt in, nearly ripping the omega's head off.

It didn't matter though. Lydia had collapsed, the wound on her stomach bleeding profusely. Scott rushed their friend to the hospital, leaving the others to subdue the other omega. Still fueled with rage, Derek had simply stalked over and plunged his claws into its chest.

All in all, Derek's kill total equaled two for the night, and Stiles nearly lost another close friend. Stiles knew Derek would need him as much as he needed the older man that night. That was why, when Stiles finally managed to make it to his room, he was completely unsurprised to find Derek waiting for him, sitting on his bed.

"My dad's working the night shift." Stiles said. "He won't be home till morning."

That was all it took for Derek to be off the bed and across the room, pulling Stiles to him desperately, pressing their lips together in a heated kiss. The kiss started simple enough, but didn't stay that way for long. Derek snaked his tongue into Stiles' mouth, almost forcefully, but Stiles didn't complain. He groaned as Derek's tongue rubbed against his own, moving his arms up to wrap around Derek's shoulders. One of his hands came to rest in Derek's hair. He cared his fingers through it before gripping the soft hair at the back of his neck and tugging, earning a grunt from the older man.

Derek detached himself from Stiles' mouth, only to move to his neck where he proceeded to lick, suck, and bite on the soft flesh there. Stiles dug his fingers into Derek's shoulders at the feeling, refusing to make a sound.

Derek growled. Stiles loved to tease the werewolf, and being silent was the most fun way to do that. It always made Derek try his hardest to elicit sounds from the younger male. Derek bit Stiles' neck where a mark was already forming, hard enough to draw blood. Stiles gasped at the sharp pain, but otherwise remained quiet. Derek pulled away and glared at Stiles who smirked up at him in response.

"Shirt off. Now." Derek commanded. Stiles obeyed, sliding the offending piece of clothing off quickly. He tugged at the hem of Derek's shirt once he had, asking for permission to remove his as well. Derek complied, lifting his arms above his head to allow the smaller male to pull it off easier.

Derek reattached himself to Stiles' mouth as soon as they were both free. He allowed his claws to slide out and he slowly dragged his hands down Stiles' bare back, leaving light scratches that would fade in a day or two and pulling a whine from the teen. Derek smirked into their kiss and continued to drag his hands down over Stiles' still clothed ass, stopping just beneath to grip his thighs, hoisting Stiles up, forcing him to wrap his legs around Derek's waist. Both men groaned at the friction to their hardening cocks.

Derek spun and, still ravishing Stiles' mouth, blindly made his way to Stiles' bed, dropping the teen onto it once his shins made contact with the frame. Stiles let out a rather undignified squawk at the sudden loss of contact and tossed a half-hearted glare up at Derek, who was now hovering above him on the bad, straddling Stiles' narrow waist. Stiles' train of thought, as well as his glare, stuttered at the look of pure lust the man above him was giving him.

Stiles didn't have long to appreciate it though, before Derek began to press soft kisses down his chest. He paused when he reached Stiles' nipples. Derek let his tongue flick against one of the hardening nubs before he attached his mouth to the sensitive area and played with it. Stiles' eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned at the sensations that were travelling straight to his cock.

"Derek, please." He gasped out. Derek knew exactly what the boy wanted and ran his claws down Stiles' sides and over his hips till be reached the button on his pants, which he swiftly undid along with the zipper.

Derek had to pause and stand up to pull the jeans off. His own soon followed, along with his underwear. Derek also took the liberty of removing Stiles' boxers as well, smirking when his straining member sprang to life, finally free of its denim prison. Stiles stared up at him with hooded eyes.

"Derek…" he whispered.

Derek crawled back on top of the teen and continued his earlier ministrations, switching sides to give the other nipple the same attention, nipping it lightly. With one hand propping himself up to keep from crushing Stiles, Derek moved his other hand down to Stiles' cock, pumping it lightly, dragging a moan from said teen. Stiles arched into the touch, letting wanton sounds fall from his lips, attempt at silence forgotten.

When Derek suddenly stopped, Stiles whined. "Flip over." The older man commanded. Stiles obeyed, turning over and resting on his knees and elbows, ass in the air. Grabbing the lube off the table beside them, Derek spread a generous amount over his own throbbing member and lined himself up with Stiles' hole.

Stiles his fact to the side to try to look at Derek eyes wide, but Derek was having none of that. With one hand steadying himself on Stiles' hip, claws digging into the soft flesh there, the other came to rest in Stiles' hair. Gripping the long strands tightly, he forced Stiles' face back into the pillows they were resting against, effectively muting the boy.

With one swift thrust, Derek slid into Stiles up to the hilt. Without any preparation, Stiles screamed, the sound muffled by the pillows, hands gripping the bed sheets till his knuckles went white. Derek didn't pause to check if the teen was alright, and began to slowly rock his hips into Stiles. Stiles' pain didn't last long though, and he was soon rocking back into Derek, meeting him thrust for thrust.

Derek let his hand slip from Stiles' hair to his neck. Despite his werewolf senses allowing him to hear heartbeats, he pressed his fingers to the pulse point on Stiles' jugular. Stiles moaned and turned his head to the side to allow Derek better access. It was one of their stranger kinks, the need to feel blood flowing through each other's body, to feel that sign of life. To reassure themselves that they were still alive. Because after all the crap that had happened to them, with the kanima, the darach, and especially the nogitsune on Stiles' part, who's to say they _were_ still alive anymore?

At the feel of the steady beat, beat, beat of Stiles' heart, Derek sped up his pace, snapping his hips faster to meet Stiles' ass. Derek's hand on the teen's hip tightened, claws biting into skin, drawing blood that dripped down Stiles' thigh. Stiles let out a loud moan at the feeling of pain mingling with the pleasure of being fucked, the sound dissolving into a scream as Derek hit his sweet spot.

The sound of Stiles' pleasure spurring him on, Derek set a punishing pace, aiming to hit that sweet spot every time. The younger male screamed loudly with every thrust and Derek was unrelenting as Stiles screamed his name along with multiple other obscenities.

Stiles slithered a hand under his body to grip his cock, pumping in time with each of Derek's thrusts. It wasn't long until Stiles came with a particularly loud scream of Derek's name. Stiles clenched around Derek, dragging him to his release as well, and he came with a moan, Stiles' ass taking his seed until it spilled out.

Derek pulled out, and both men collapsed onto the bed. Derek pulled Stiles to him so that his back was to the older man's chest and they fell into a dreamless sleep, too exhausted to care about the mess.

When Stiles woke the next morning in a sticky mess of his own come and blood, he was unsurprised to find himself alone. Stiles went about his normal routine, cleaning himself off, putting his sheets in the wash, bandaging the cuts on his hips that were still oozing a bit. He didn't mind though. He liked having the marks on him. He knew if he looked in the mirror, he would find bruises along his neck and scratches down his back. This was his way of paying for all the terrible things he'd done. Or, at least, that's how he saw it.

This was their routine. When both men felt guilt ridden, and the pressure became almost too much to bear, they would seek each other out. Derek would make Stiles bleed for the things he'd done as the nogitsune, for all the times he'd failed to save his friends, and Stiles would reassure Derek that they were still alive, even after all they had been through, even though some of their friends weren't.

And in the morning, when all was said and done, they would go their separate ways. And for the moment, the pressure was relieved. It wasn't a happy ending, but it was theirs.

xxxxx

**So, after the nogitsune episodes, I can picture Stiles being all happy and fine around his friends, then like this when he's alone. Let me know what you think!**


End file.
